


Soul on Fire

by criswrites121



Series: Soul on Fire [1]
Category: TWICE (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Detectives, Alternate Universe - Spies & Secret Agents, F/F, Thriller, more fluff and angst than i expected, with side fluff and angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-22
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:13:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27663875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/criswrites121/pseuds/criswrites121
Summary: Detective Jihyo runs into an old flame, and all hell breaks loose.
Relationships: Im Nayeon/Son Chaeyoung, Myoui Mina/Park Jisoo | Jihyo
Series: Soul on Fire [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2022770
Comments: 12
Kudos: 31





	1. Red Red Red Line

The clouds above Seoul were thin and dark today. From a window on the third floor of the Korean National Police Agency’s headquarters, Jihyo watched them crawl slowly across the horizon until the sun disappeared behind buildings of concrete and glass.

 _Time to go home soon_ , Jihyo reassured herself. She pushed her long red hair back. The roots were showing, and she wondered when she’d have time to re-dye it. Her time in the office almost doubled when she took on two complex cases, both of which were now developing at a snail’s pace.

Her monitors showed known members of the 14K Triads operating in the surrounding province, and she had been clicking through the mugshots with growing frustration. She was pretty sure she held one of their members in a holding cell downstairs, but neither the analysts nor facial recognition software had identified her. Jihyo had tried to pass the matter to the Chinese embassy (which, come to think of it, hadn’t returned her emails from the other day), then found herself going through the databases herself. As if she needed more to do.

Her junior partner, Yoo Jeongyeon, came in early for her shift, and Jihyo brightened. After they exchanged hellos, Jihyo quickly delegated some of her current work and other odds and ends, forwarding emails and shifting piles of folders to the nearby desk.

“Is that it?” Jeongyeon asked drily, leafing through one of the files. She hadn’t even made it to her seat when the last stack thumped down.

Jeongyeon was on the tall side, blonde, pretty, and terrifically competent, yet somehow she blended completely into the wall. Jihyo didn’t understand it. Her own expressive eyes and authoritative energy drew attention like lightning to a lightning rod, and she couldn’t hide away even if she wanted to. Jihyo glanced up at her charge fondly. Someone else might have taken offense to Jeongyeon’s tone, but Jihyo knew she was simply daunted.

“Just focus on Busan’s Camorra problem, and having the Triad woman identified,” Jihyo replied, giving an apologetic smile. “We can breathe a little easier when we move forward on those. Don’t mind me rushing out. Mr. Jang wants to know our progress before I go.”

“Ah, good luck. Do you think you can ask him to order a better grade of coffee? This last blend tasted like it was roasted in a boot. An old, sweaty boot.”

“I wish! He’s been swearing it’s an improvement—came from his mother’s sister’s husband’s company. Something like that. You know how it is.” Jihyo gathered up her things to stuff them into a leather satchel and straightened her uniform. “Text me if you need anything less ambitious.”

Jeongyeon gave a noncommittal grunt and waved her off.

***

Jihyo strode down the long hall from the open office space to Foreign Affair’s private offices, most of them dark, their occupants retreated for the day. She passed them enviously. She had thought that, with this last promotion to Senior Detective, she’d finally have one of her own, but the squeeze for space in the office meant that many were pushed out of private offices and into open floor plans. Soon enough, she saw the characters for Superintendent vertically printed in a bold, square font. This office, she knew, was much larger than the others she passed, and she held onto a hope that someday it would be hers.

Jihyo gave the door three quick raps before pushing it open and taking a few steps in. “Hello, Mr. Jang, are you busy?” she began in a brisk voice. Partway through her bow, she froze.

Last month, Jang Sungho had a new chair installed. Instead of the usual government-issued thinly padded swivel chairs, his was a thickly proportioned, reclining monstrosity. The chair’s red leather was as bright as chili peppers, and despite the loud color, it became the envy of the office.

Now, Jihyo didn’t think anyone would want it. Mr. Jang was sitting partly reclined in his chair, spindly features dwarfed by the chair’s wide surfaces, but this time his head was pulled back and a thick red line of blood swelled across his neck. It dripped onto the leather and his white button-down shirt. His eyes bulged out of his face. He definitely wasn’t breathing.

She then noticed an intruder behind the body, and she jumped a step back, reaching for her holster. The woman was partly masked, dressed in all black, with a climbing harness around her middle and other tactical gear strapped neatly around her body. Very high quality, well-worn equipment, Jihyo noticed at a glance. _A professional. Oh hell._

Jihyo’s hand brushed against… nothing. She ground her teeth in frustration, remembering that both her weapon and belt were in her desk, untouched for weeks. She hadn’t needed them since her promotion to a desk job. Until now, that is.

A silver pistol had appeared in the intruder’s gloved hand, and she calmly pointed the muzzle at Jihyo. For a moment Jihyo saw nothing else.

“Well,” the intruder murmured. Her melodious voice, soft but clear, easily passed through the thin black gaiter that covered the lower half of her face. She stepped around the desk and settled herself on top of it. “Please do us both a favor and don’t yell. No sudden movements: you know the drill. And kindly close the door behind you.”

Jihyo reluctantly took a step back and let the door click closed. Her mind ratcheted through anything she could do against an armed, and likely well-trained killer, all variations on “talk fast” or “charge and die like an idiot”.

She watched the intruder carefully, cataloguing her features: Straight brown hair up in a high ponytail, swept bangs, and deep, dark brown, almond-shaped eyes. Eyes that were steady and focused and… _lethal_ , like a double-barreled rifle. Eyes you can fall into and never come out again.

The woman asked, tentatively, “Park Jisoo?”

Jihyo gaped. “It’s Jihyo now,” she corrected automatically. “Do I know you?” How did the intruder know her old name? She had changed it when she met way too many other Jisoos at the academy, some of them also surnamed Park. Those were awkward times.

“You might.” The woman sounded amused. “Alright… Jihyo. You know, I should have realized that you’d work here. That’s… not necessarily a bad thing.”

 _Why would it be a bad thing?_ thought Jihyo, frowning. Despite the late nights and inevitable stress, Jihyo loved her job. She knew she made her country safer in her own small way, for one thing, and the rush of adrenaline gave savor to her life. Sure some things were missing, but good work was thankfully not one of them. _So she judges my choices casually. Who does she think she is?_

Jihyo didn’t think the intruder was a native Korean speaker, though she spoke the language skillfully, with hints of another country’s rhythm. _Japanese_ , Jihyo thought. W _hat Japanese women have I met or encountered?_ So many, really, in her line of work. She dismissed the possibility that this woman was someone she had never met. She could swear she remembered that honeyed voice _._

“Who…” Jihyo cleared her throat. “Who are you? Have we met? Where did you get my name?” she asked, her voice strengthening. Asking as if she could expect answers because, well, she did. Even lies were answers in some way. _Just keep her talking._

“Those are not important questions,” the woman said. She looked faintly disappointed, as if Jihyo was her student and hadn’t read the assignment. “The important thing is, why did this man—your boss—need to die?”

Jihyo slowly shook her head. “Listen, you’ve killed in cold blood, but this doesn’t have to go further. If you tell me who you are and turn yourself in now, the prosecutors will take that into account.” She lowered her brows and put steel behind her next words. “But if you resist, or if you kill me, they will go harder on you once they catch you. You will look over your shoulder for the rest of your life. We’ll find you and we’re much better at this than you seem to think.” She stared into the intruder’s eyes, as if by pure will she could make the woman see the truth of her words. _Believe me, back down or we will bury you._

The intruder looked impressed, but not cowed. Not even a little. _Damn!_ _Who is she?_ “That may be,” the woman replied, “but you’ll still want to listen to me first, I promise.”

Jihyo didn’t see why she would, especially with Mr. Jang’s body right there. Jihyo saw many bodies in her career, many more mangled than this one, but she had never encountered the corpse of someone she knew, someone who she was growing to respect and who in turn appreciated her work. Why did criminals always feel the need to explain themselves? If you did the crime, you belonged behind bars. Justice could be that simple.

Jihyo bit out, “Fine. What are you doing here?”

The woman smiled. Jihyo couldn’t explain it, but she could tell what it was even if the woman’s eyes barely crinkled and the thin mask betrayed only the slightest movements of the lips. A memory of that same smile floated up in her mind’s eye.

The woman reached into her pocket and pulled out a small black object, which she placed on the desk. “Just a USB drive, nothing fancy,” she explained. “It holds copies of files that Mr. Jang kept privately. Your internal auditors will find them very revealing, and they can check his phone and home computer themselves if they have any doubts. There are also videos and photographs of his meetings with certain questionable characters.”

“So? What was he doing?” Jihyo prompted, folding her arms.

“He took bribes to look the other way, of course, used taxpayer money to help construct businesses for his family, and sent lavish gifts for political favors.” Some emotion was seeping into the woman’s voice now. “Of interest closer to home: He hired someone to kill his last assistant for snooping into his files. The relevant photographs are also here.”

Jihyo eyed the thumb drive, stunned. It might as well have been an explosive. “You had nothing to do with that last part, right?” she asked, accusingly. She remembered the young man who disappeared two months ago: Min-something. Cheerful and razor sharp and barely out of high school.

“Oh, not at all. I would have warned him off if I knew, I promise.”

“But why did you kill him?” Jihyo’s voice rose as she gestured at the one occupied chair. She suddenly found it hard to look at her former boss. “Even if all this is true, why didn’t you come forward? We could’ve taken cared of it. Legally. With due process and a fair trial. How could you make yourself judge, jury, and executioner? You have no right!”

The woman’s eyes flashed, and Jihyo could see the hand with the gun tighten. _Good job, Jihyo. Yell at a murderer. What a fine idea,_ the observer in the back of her brain commented sarcastically. The woman didn’t seem to want to kill her at all, but it took just a second to change one’s mind, and another instant to transform from a breathing human to worm food. Jihyo knew she should be afraid, but she just felt anger rushing through her veins. Maybe if she survived this, she would have her own head checked. She made an effort to stand very still.

After a moment, the woman visibly relaxed, and a sad expression passed over her features.

“Do you really think the process, the trials, the judgment, that any of it is completely fair? Maybe for some people it seems so, but for too many, fairness is in the eye of the beholder.” Her voice was softer now, gentle, almost whispering.

“And if that beholder—a judge, a prosecutor, a detective, those with power over other people—can be threatened or bribed, or manipulated, then what is fairness? I have the truth: carefully gathered, unimpeachable evidence, which means right enough to act on it.”

Jihyo’s eyes narrowed. “That’s not how it works! He had rights too, to be held accountable by the public. Not by you.” Jihyo took a step and at this, the woman raised her eyebrows and lifted the gun. Jihyo huffed, but she did not step back. She had gained a bit of ground. Maybe that was enough. Maybe if she kept the woman talking, she would get distracted, and then Jihyo could spring the rest of the way forward and subdue her.

Instead, the woman focused on her even more fiercely. “I know you, Jihyo. You care. You honestly care about not just knowing the right way but doing it. Just please don’t do anything rash. I would like you to be able to watch what happens next.”

“What happens next?” Jihyo demanded, “What do you mean?”

“You’ll believe it if you see it for yourself. You know, your Mr. Jang wasn’t terribly important in the grand scheme. He’s just a small fish in a large pond, but small fish—they attract much larger predators.”

Jihyo raised her eyebrows, took a deep breath, and tried to reason with the woman one more time: “Come with me and end this now. Please. Put the gun down. We can talk about how to change things without killing anyone. Or is running and killing all you want to do with your life? Are you just going to kill more of us?”

“I do what I have to, just like you, Ji.” The woman spoke too casually now, and Jihyo grimaced. “Who is ‘us’, anyway? Are you sure you belong here? With _them_?” The woman stood up, apparently deciding this talk was over. She continued to hold the gun between them while she walked backwards to an open window on the far side. “By the way, I recommend you not tell anyone about our conversation. They might find that suspicious… or think we’re an ‘us’.” The woman’s lips seemed to twitch again under the mask. Jihyo blinked, not knowing what to say for once.

“Just give them the files, Ji. And… take care of yourself.” The woman winked, or sort of tried to, both eyes fluttering. Then, in one movement, she secured a hook from her harness to the window and leapt out, the sound of rappelling following her down.

Jihyo darted to the window and whipped out her phone between strides. The woman had already disappeared. Jihyo swore and thinking quickly, she made calls to Security, to Forensics, and anyone else she could reach who could get boots on the ground, giving descriptions of the woman and the grisly scene behind her, prodding everyone into movement.

When she eventually put the phone down, she slid down the wall near the open window. _I guess I won’t be going home soon after all._

The wind whipped in, pulling at the grappling hook the woman left behind. Jihyo stared at it, willing for her thoughts to slow and her mind to clear, when a dreadful feeling took root in the middle of her stomach. The anger she had held onto and taken strength from was suddenly extinguished. Jihyo realized where she saw those eyes before, that clumsy wink, the last time she heard that soft, beguiling voice.

They belonged to someone she had thought was long dead.

 _Mina_.

_What happened to you?_

***

The Hantan River around Yeoncheon County would develop ice in the next week or so, but today it flowed freely, cutting through the land in a wide swath. The autumn leaves swirled above it, drifting through sloping forests, skipping over volcanic rock formations and the distant mountain, careening against the ivy-covered cliffs, to finally scatter across the waters like little red and gold offerings.

The weather was always chilly this time of year, and only the die-hards were camping now. Son Chaeyoung was one of them. She shivered as the wind slipped into her green parka, but she barely noticed it.

She had navigated her pickup truck into the campground, towing her trailer behind her, then unfolded her camp chair and built a fire. On rare occasions, she would stay at a motel, a friend’s place, or as a last resort, her mother’s ranch. But tonight, under the light of the rising moon and the flickering fire, Chaeyoung was home.

She held a tablet in one hand and swept a stylus across it in a whirlwind of strokes. The designs for her next game, an isometric action-puzzle rpg, were coming along nicely. She finished another batch of character model sheets and could now send it over to her animators. There will be politely worded questions. No matter how many notes she would add, there were always politely worded questions: _Do you think the anthropomorphic orchid should bounce across the screen or crawl?_ _Are these balloon hearts around the squiggly monster thing supposed to move independently?_ Or her recent favorite: _I see a gang of tie-dyed poodles, but which pattern is the boss?_ She considered that question carefully.

More often than not she would type back, _Don’t overthink it._ _Use your initiative, really. We can always tweak it later. Nothing has to be just right the first time around._ Maybe she could create an assistant creative director position so someone else could field these questions. Her business manager would make a face, and she might have to move some of her earnings from her other company, the security consultancy, to the studio, but then everyone would stay happy and sane. She’d type up the job description tomorrow, she decided.

A Tesla Model S slid into a spot by her truck, and Chaeyoung, in surprise, nearly fell out of her chair. Instinctively, she clutched her tablet to her chest. Then, the smirking face of her girlfriend appeared in the moonlight.

“Hey! I wasn’t expecting you!”

“Do you ever?” Nayeon grinned and bounded over to give the smaller woman a soft peck and a backbreaking hug, a black leather tote swinging from her hands. She was dressed in a burnt orange, faux fur jacket over a black turtleneck and winter leggings, looking more like a displaced Milanese model and definitely not, say, a KNPA undercover officer and ex-National Intelligence Service agent.

Chaeyoung also grinned now, remembering when they first met. At one time, Chaeyoung was behind some of the NIS’s cyber intelligence operations, watching for texts and online activity of terror suspects. She was alarmed by some messages, flagged them, and soon the local police moved in. They arrested Nayeon, then quietly released her, and soon after Chaeyoung was confronted by a reddening woman in aggressively ugly streetwear, who ranted about being rudely interrupted during a Very Important sting operation. Naturally, Chaeyoung invited her for drinks. Recriminations turned into commiserations, late night talks fueled by soju, then to morning breakfasts, and then, well, here they were.

A few years later, the legislature dissolved the NIS’s domestic branch, and Nayeon was transferred to the KNPA to lead sting operations there. Chaeyoung went into the security business for herself, picking up contract work for both the KNPA and the NIS’s remaining branches while pursuing her love of design. (Sometimes she was asked if juggling two very different careers ever bothered her. _Not at all_ , she’d said. _All of life is one art_.)

Jolting her out of her thoughts, Nayeon exclaimed, “What the hell? You’re freezing!” Nayeon hugged Chaeyoung hard, trying to stretch her own jacket around them both. “Didn’t I get you blankets? Where are they? Don’t tell me you gave them away!”

“Don’t worry,” Chaeyoung said sheepishly, “They’re still in the truck. I’ll get them now.”

“Wonderful. I brought you some gimbap, so I hope you didn’t fill up on those vile crackers you like to hoard.”

Chaeyoung’s face lit up. “My savior!” She detached herself from Nayeon’s arms, and still holding hands, pulling a little, she picked up some logs and threw them into the fire.

When they reached the truck, Chaeyoung opened the back door, put the tablet down on the back seat, and grabbed an armful of fleece. But when she reached for the tablet, Nayeon caught her arm. Grimly shaking her head and holding a finger to her lips, Nayeon took out a phone, laid it on top of the tablet, then gestured for Chaeyoung to do the same. Startled, Chaeyoung copied her and closed the door on their devices.

“Trailer or campfire?” asked Chaeyoung.

Nayeon nodded in the direction of the trailer and followed Chaeyoung in. The inside of Chaeyoung’s trailer was a riot of color, paint all over the walls and cabinets in a variety of bold splashes and squiggles and multi-colored nongeometric shapes. They stuffed their coats into a closet, took off their shoes, and squeezed past the miniature appliances to sit on the queen-sized bed. The section of the ceiling that curved over the bed displayed a stylized version of the milky way, with painted glow-in-the-dark circles for planets and asterisks for stars.

Chaeyoung spread the blankets over both their laps, and made sure she could watch the fire from there, just in case. Nayeon pulled out dinner from her tote and arranged them on a fold-down table, her features unusually tense and her black outfit stark against the festive walls. By this time, Chaeyoung was brimming with questions.

“What was that about? Are you okay?” Chaeyoung looked at her critically, checking for any new bandages, and patting her down for good measure. _No new wounds as far as I can tell—good, but she’s pale—not so good._

“Now’s not the time to feel me up,” Nayeon joked weakly. At Chaeyoung’s exasperated look, Nayeon quickly continued, “I don’t know exactly what is going on, but no, it isn’t me who you should be worried about. It’s… about Jihyo.” She had produced two packages of the promised gimbap and handed one to Chaeyoung, along with chopsticks and iced tea. “Give me one sec.”

Nayeon scarfed down the food as if she hadn’t eaten all day. Chaeyoung picked through her dish, waiting as patiently as she could. She found herself settling into the feeling of just having Nayeon near her.

There were a couple of reasons why she and Nayeon hadn’t officially moved in together.“Too soon,” they’d said every time the matter came up, but the other reason was that Nayeon’s job could be truly dangerous. Nayeon still shared an apartment with Jihyo—the two were used to being in risky situations together, as best friends in and out of work—but Nayeon would get agitated at the thought that Chaeyoung might get hurt because of her. (Chaeyoung would tell Nayeon that her concerns were cute, then look smug when Nayeon blushed.)

After they had eaten and cleaned up, Nayeon lay down sideways on the bed, took a deep breath, and said, “So someone bugged my apartment.” Chaeyoung's eyebrows shot up. _Who’d have the guts to do that?_ “I don’t know who, but every corner is covered. Jihyo’s room, my room, everywhere. No cameras, at least. They really tried to be discreet, hah, but some idiot left tool marks on one of the outlets. You bet I noticed and looked inside. Regulation equipment.” Nayeon added darkly, “I hope the mike in the bathroom picks up every shit I take.”

Chaeyoung cracked a smile. She remembered her own short stint on the listening end of Surveillance, and yes, she did hear a lot of bodily noises. On the plus side, the slow pace of the work gave her plenty of time to daydream and doodle.

She paused in alarm. “Regulation equipment? Do you mean, our government set this up? Or someone with access to that stuff? What did you do with the mikes?”

Nayeon nodded. “I didn’t touch them. For all they know, I don’t know anything. And I really don’t!”

“Oh good. Are you worried that they tapped your devices too? Will you need secured equipment? Phone? Laptop? What about your car?”

“I’m thinking about it, but do I want to carry more things around? And… what about my car?” Nayeon asked, blankly.

“It’s a great car and all,” Chaeyoung blurted, remembering it was basically her girlfriend’s child, “but if you’re going to be even more security conscious than before, I could disable some of its features for you. Do you want that?”

“No!” Nayeon yelped. Chaeyoung hid a smile. _Did she imagine bundles of sparking wires and a smoking engine?_

Nayeon amended, “If you can just secure a new phone for me that’d be amazing. I’ve closed a case, by the way, so now I have a little free time. Who knew I would spend it by looking over my shoulder!”

“Got it. I thought you said they weren’t after you?”

“Yeah, I just want to play it safe. I don’t see why they’d monitor me. I haven’t done anything that could really piss anybody off—not for a few months, anyway.”

Chaeyoung had to smile now, and she couldn’t help interrupting. “Is that a new record?”

“Shut up,” Nayeon said, and swatted half-heartedly at her. Chaeyoung dodged sideways, laughing as she bumped into a closet.

“I see,” Chaeyoung said, settling back down, “but then why would someone target Jihyo?”

“Well, she found her boss with his throat slit. That might have something to do with it.” Nayeon frowned in memory of her own shock at the news.

Chaeyoung gasped. “She told you that?”

“Nope. I just texted her to say I’ll drop by soon. She’s at her grandpa’s house, taking a few personal days off. I didn’t say anything much. If our phones are compromised, I didn’t want her to start blabbing about whatever it is that’s going on.”

“Could she be a suspect in the case? I know she’d never do it, but—”

“No, I don’t think so,” Nayeon said, although her voice wavered slightly. “There was definitely someone else, a woman, at the scene. Jeongyeon—you remember her?—she said the woman escaped and hasn’t been identified yet. That’s all we know. I want to ask people around the office about the case, but now someone invaded my home! Maybe I shouldn’t draw too much attention to myself. I tried to ask Jeong to look into it for me, and she said she’s too swamped.”

“She’s covering for Jihyo, I guess.”

“Yep. A true soldier, that one.” Nayeon pulled herself up to a sitting position behind Chaeyoung and placed her chin on the smaller woman’s shoulder. “Anyway, I don’t know what to do.”

Chaeyoung pulled Nayeon’s arms around herself and tried to think it through. After a minute, she blew out her cheeks. “So you don’t know why your apartment is bugged, you don’t know for sure if Jihyo has something to do with it, you don’t know anything about her boss’s death, or if it is connected somehow… That’s a lot of information you don’t have.”

“Too fucking true.”

Chaeyoung continued carefully, “And a lot of that can be answered by Jihyo. Not that I’m not glad you’re here, but if you need answers, why did you come all the way up here to see me first?”

Nayeon jerked up and cleared her throat. “Um, no reason? I just wanted to see you, babe.” Chaeyoung raised an eyebrow and Nayeon hastily added, “Okay, okay, I also wanted to ask you for a favor, but now that I’ve seen you, I’ve been wondering, is it too much? I mean, her ex-boss’s family is important. He’s a Jang, from the Suwon clan—yep, one of the Jangs that run the JJ Group—and I was wondering, what if their competition had him killed and now they want to keep an eye on Jihyo? And chaebols have people everywhere, so I wouldn’t be surprised if they could get equipment.”

Chaebols. Business conglomerates controlled by a family, the biggest ones being Samsung, Hyundai, LG, and SK Group, who all but own the country. Chaebols could be connected on every level of government, or—Chaeyoung shivered—the black market. Nayeon had good reasons to be worried.

The Im Nayeon that Chaeyoung knew wouldn’t beat around the bush. She really didn’t want to ask Chaeyoung to do this. It is one thing to investigate under their government’s authority and protection, with all its resources, and quite another to go outside it. Nayeon, she knew, wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t deeply important to her.

Well, Chaeyoung rarely took a long time to decide on anything. Her passions and commitments could look like stars stretched across a galaxy, sure, but she never felt strained about which one to follow. She could tell you which ones burned brighter and more steadily than the others in an instant. _And in the center of them, always, is you, Nayeon, my North Star._ She didn’t know where this path would lead, but she knew which direction she would go.

“Well, what do you need?”

At Chaeyoung’s earnest tone, Nayeon stared and peered at her closely. “Are you sure? I feel like I’m dragging you into something. You don’t have to, I swear, I know a few people who might help.”

“But I’m guessing you don’t know who to trust?” Nayeon sighed and nodded agreement, so Chaeyoung added, a little shyly, “Well, I’m sure. Anything you want me to do to help, you know I will. I’m all in.”

Something in Nayeon’s face shifted and now she looked at Chaeyoung completely, as if with every cell in her body, and she pulled Chaeyoung in tight.

A little later, Nayeon asked, “Do you think you can work your surveillance contacts and find out who planted the microphones?”

“Maybe…?” Chaeyoung pulled away from Nayeon’s distracting warmth and ran a hand through her hair. “Why do you think anyone would tell me? I don’t have your silver tongue and I’m technically not in anyone’s chain of command anymore. Do you even know which organization to look at? KNPA? NIS? Foreign intelligence? One of the gangs you’d investigated? I’m not convinced this is over the murder, to be honest.”

“I’m trying to narrow the list, Chae!… but yeah, damnit you’re right. Then, what about those microphones themselves? Can you start with them? Do your magic? I’ll pull the thread from the other end with Jihyo.”

Chaeyoung nodded slowly, visualizing the setup she’d need.

“I’m so sickeningly grateful that you speak geek.”

“My language skills are at your disposal.”

“Jihyo and I thank you for your services!”

“Are you speaking for the Jihyo who hasn’t even seen you yet?”

Nayeon chuckled and shrugged easily. She maneuvered off the bed and held out a hand to Chaeyoung. “Tell you what. How about I visit her first thing tomorrow? Right now the fire is still hot, so is my girlfriend…” Chaeyoung rolled her eyes, but let Nayeon pull her up. “And I’m hoping you have snacks in that tiny kitchen of yours.”

“How do s’mores sound?”

“Perfect.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading :)


	2. Every Minute, Every Second, My Heart Goes Ahead of Me

_Earlier, at the KNPA headquarters…_

For a moment, Jeongyeon was almost cheerful. She had been arranging the hardcopy folders on her desk into neat, sensible piles, in order of priority, and was almost ready to sort her email too, but then came Jihyo’s alarming phone call. Now, she was running down the corridors, a two-way radio in each hand, tuned in to the patrol units’ static-filled chatter.

She reached the closed door to the superintendent’s office, hesitated, then clipped the radios onto her belt, pulled a sleeve over her hand and gingerly turned the knob. 

Jeongyeon knew what she would find, but she still felt some shock. Without stepping past the doorway—she didn’t want to give forensics more work—she craned her neck to try to observe the whole room, scrunching her face at the sight of the body and the rising stink. Jihyo was on the far side, lurching to her feet.

Jeongyeon gave her a little wave. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost, Jihyo. Mr. Jang gave us even more work after he kicked the bucket, didn’t he?”

Jihyo’s returned smile was somehow both empty and strained, her eyes meeting Jeongyeon’s for a split second before returning to her phone.

Jeongyeon waited until Jihyo reached her and put an arm around her shoulders. “I’m sorry about Mr. Jang,” Jeongyeon offered. She probably should’ve said that first. Oh well. “He, um...he didn’t deserve this.”

Jihyo shrugged, leading Jeongyeon to withdraw her arm, then she crossed the corridor and leaned on a wall, tapping at her phone a little too hard.

 _Did I say something wrong?_ Jeongyeon wondered. She followed Jihyo partway, then stopped and pushed her hands firmly into her pockets. She’d rather sit, but the investigation team would be here any moment now. Might as well look alert.

Remembering, she passed one of the radios to Jihyo who took it without looking. Jeongyeon raised an eyebrow. She had ran all the way over here partly because Jihyo asked for a radio, and now Jihyo was tuning out? Usually, she was pacing, restless, hopped up on adrenaline, even trading opinions with the patrol leaders when they let her. Jeongyeon would get it if Jihyo was quieter than usual, but this was not even close.

Minutes passed, and the local station chief ordered all patrol units to widen their perimeter.

“Do you think they’ll find her?” Jihyo asked, finally looking up.

“Not tonight,” Jeongyeon said, happy for the opening even if Jihyo asked a question they both knew the answer to. “While I was running over here, traffic control said the suspect disappeared from their cameras. They distributed an image from the CCTV, but the patrol units have been complaining: her features were blurry, barely identifiable—the civilians they stopped couldn’t say anything for sure—and she could’ve changed her appearance by this time, if she’s good.”

“She’s good. I don’t doubt it.”

Jeongyeon frowned and waited for Jihyo to say more on the topic. Her senior partner took her role as Jeongyeon’s mentor very seriously and rarely missed an opportunity to discuss her reasoning or relay her experiences. She tried to fill in the gaps, usually.

“Is your friend Myung still in Jeju?” Jihyo asked instead.

“Yeah, for sure.” Jeongyeon’s frown deepened and she rubbed the back of her neck. She knew Cha Myung from the academy. He was an analyst now and Jeongyeon had been trying to get him to transfer to Seoul for ages, giving up only after he bombarded her with photos of Jeju Island’s famous beaches featuring him and his boyfriend. “Why do you want to know?”

“I just have a hunch…something I want to confirm outside of official channels.” 

“Oh you want a favor?” Jeongyeon relaxed a little; she understood favors. “He gets so bigheaded, you know? You can choose to ignore him, but me? He’ll never let me forget it.”

“Yeah, well, you can tell me how I’ll make it up to you. I need all our records for a plane crash off the coast of Jeju from three years ago.” Jihyo turned her phone to show Jeongyeon a Japanese article. Jeongyeon squinted. Ugh, why couldn’t it be in Korean? Or even Mandarin? She’d passed the Foreign Affairs Bureau’s yearly diagnostic tests so she was confident there. Her Japanese, on the other hand, ‘still needed improvement’. Blessedly, Jihyo said, “I’ll send it to you.”

Jeongyeon nodded, relieved. She could translate it later. She took out her phone and watched it light up. “Alright. This will cost you three meals. I’m thinking hotpot, gogigui—“

“One,” Jihyo replied.

Jeongyeon, noticing the other woman brighten in amusement, mentally high-fived herself.

“Two and you’re also buying the soju.”

“Two and no I’m not buying the soju! I’m not made of money, Yoo.”

“Could’ve fooled me. Fine. I’ll be kind and won’t pick the too expensive spots,” Jeongyeon said, satisfied. Jihyo was a year younger, but she reminded Jeongyeon of her two older sisters—each one of them was really good at backing Jeongyeon into a corner. Jeongyeon always had to make sure she gave as good as she got.

Then, Jeongyeon remembered how weird Jihyo was acting and wondered if she could have pushed for the soju after all. “So? What are you up to?”

Jihyo opened her mouth, then closed it.

Jeongyeon poked her in the shoulder. “Come on! You’re dying to tell somebody—it might as well be me.”

“So…” Jihyo breathed out. “Back in academy, I used to see someone. Casually.”

Jeongyeon pressed her lips together, holding back a delighted grin. She’d gotten Jihyo drunk enough to spill on her personal life before, a few times, despite the other woman’s ridiculously high tolerance, but somehow Jeongyeon never heard this story. 

“It wasn’t really my thing, you know, but back then it just…happened. Mina—that’s her name—I couldn’t ever say no to her.” Jihyo was gazing past Jeongyeon’s shoulder. Then, her expression slowly cleared and she eyed Jeongyeon as she continued: “We broke it off when she had to go back to Japan, and a year later, I learned she’d died in that crash. Then, the craziest thing happened: the woman I confronted, the one who killed our boss, looked and sounded just like her. So see if you could get the info as quickly as possible, okay?”

Jeongyeon furrowed her brows. She had been hoping for juicy sordid details. _What the hell is this?_ “Looked and sounded? Seriously?” She had to gather her thoughts, turn them into several pointed questions, but then an elevator dinged, then another. 

Jihyo made a cutting motion with her hand. Jeongyeon glared at her, then subsided, forcing on a professional mask. 

Footsteps. Building security came around the corner, faces strained, weapons ready. 

_Too little, too late._ Jeongyeon snorted, then covered it by clearing her throat while the unit’s sergeant approached. Jihyo stepped forward and pointed the sergeant to the superintendent’s office.

One of the officers posted herself outside the scene and several took to the corridors to secure the floor. Another pair arrived with the forensics team and the Violent Crime Unit. Jeongyeon led the teams to a large conference room so they could settle in, then followed Jihyo and the VCU’s Lieutenant Lee into a smaller one.

Thirty-something and built like a bear, Lieutenant Lee Taeho had worked with Jihyo and Jeongyeon on several cases. Now, he sat with Jihyo over his laptop while she gave a description of the suspect. They turned it into a facial composite, half of the features missing behind a mask, then forwarded it to all units active in the search. 

“Do you need a statement from me, Lieutenant?” asked Jeongyeon. “If not, I’ll see if anyone needs help setting up.”

“You’re fine,” he said, waving one large hand. “The cameras in the elevator lobby had picked up your sprint to the scene, well after we logged Detective Park’s call for backup. If I think of anything, I’ll let you know.”

Jeongyeon, relieved, was about to exit the room when Lieutenant Lee turned to Jihyo for her statement, recording with the camera on his laptop. Jeongyeon hovered by the doorway unnoticed, watching as she answered his questions clearly and objectively, with just the right undertones hinting shock and fury. Jihyo’s face was as lively as always, perfectly normal, except Jeongyeon noted the slight fluctuations in the speed of her voice when she talked about the suspect, particularly when Jihyo said she had spooked the suspect off before she could say anything, and how she hadn’t seen her before. 

Jeongyeon wondered what Lieutenant Lee picked up. His broad face was seemingly neutral, but he didn’t drill down where Jeongyeon would have, sticking closely to the standard set of questions; he was taking Jihyo at her word.

Lieutenant Lee stopped the recording, and that’s when Jihyo asked for a copy of some piece of evidence. The lieutenant’s face shuttered, and Jeongyeon could understand why: technically, Foreign Affairs officers didn’t get involved until his department formally requested them, and Jihyo’s status as the first officer on the scene, who also happened to be connected to the victim, complicated the issue. Their voices lowered to whispers, and Jeongyeon could tell the discussion turned into an edged negotiation. 

A woman with ‘KCSI’ embroidered on her ballcap appeared in the doorway. Jeongyeon ushered her in, and the other two stopped and stood so Jihyo herself could be examined for pieces of evidence. A formality for sure—Jihyo seemed unconcerned. Lieutenant Lee supervised the process, chewing on his lip.

Afterwards, he whispered a few words to Jihyo, exchanged bows with them all, then left, heading towards the superintendent’s office.

Jihyo looked at Jeongyeon with a victorious expression, which turned into a surprised one when Jeongyeon walked over, discretely tugged at her sleeve and led her to the restroom. Jeongyeon carefully checked to make sure no one else was in there before she leaned against a sink and crossed her arms.

Jihyo was checking her appearance in the mirror. “Can’t I simply be happy that the lieutenant will let me get involved in the case—” 

“Why aren’t you telling him everything?” Jeongyeon demanded. Jihyo’s face tightened. “Look, you know I will help. I can get Myung started on the info you want, but don’t you owe me the full explanation? Or are we not partners anymore?” 

Jihyo fussed with her hair a few moments more before she deflated and mirrored Jeongyeon’s pose. “Fine. Where should I start?”

“You told him the suspect looked like a Japanese ‘professional’. You meant a spy, right? Jihyo!” Jeongyeon waved a hand. “And you and her—? Why didn’t you ID her if you knew?”

“I don’t want to say anything to anybody!” Jihyo huffed. “After all this, they won’t believe me if I tell them, ‘I didn’t know she was a spy when I knew her.’ Would you?”

“…But did you know?”

“Not exactly.”

“Not exactly?!”

“Mina said she had plans to join their diplomatic corps. And she was sweet and clever and funny…And I was still at the academy, denying that I saw any signs…” Jihyo trailed off, then added, “I guess I was too busy hoping she would stay.”

Jeongyeon shook her head, mentally swearing up a storm. Diplomats were diplomats except when one also happened to be an intelligence officer.

“I don’t know if Mina ever did become a diplomat or was in their intelligence or military services,” Jihyo continued, “but from what I saw today, she was trained, got experience somewhere. You should have seen her, Jeong. She was so, so self-assured, so much more than I remember.”

Jeongyeon made a neutral noise. She was perfectly fine with not seeing a thing. 

“And here’s something weird,” Jihyo said. “If she is working for someone, her employers would’ve wanted her to keep her cover. They wouldn’t have chosen something so obvious as a knife to the throat, right? He wasn’t poisoned quietly in his bed. He wasn’t found hanging from his own belt with a suicide note typed out, signature carefully forged—”

“What if that’s what she wants you to think?”

“The more I think about it, the more I believe what she said—”

“Hold on. You lied to the lieutenant about that too? Were you having a nice chitchat? Reliving old times? Swapping stories and information, or how about ideas for potential victims?”

Jihyo glared and suddenly spread her hands in the gesture Jeongyeon interpreted as _Seriously?_

Jeongyeon flinched. She had to admit Jihyo was very sincere now, even to her wary eye. “Sorry. You’re right, I know you better than that. It’s just…a lot to take in.”

“And that’s not all. Once Lieutenant Lee gets me a copy of the thumb drive she left behind, I will have more of the story. She was saying the superintendent was dirty, really dirty, and behind the disappearance of his assistant, you remember him—“

“Minjae? I thought he quit?”

“No, she said he was murdered under Jang’s orders—”

“Wow—”

“—and she wanted to pass the evidence on. But she didn’t leak it to a journalist, and she didn’t spread it on social media. Mina wanted that information quietly contained here for a reason. She told me his death was justice, but she was also quick to point out that it was…” Jihyo made a face, “useful.”

“Useful how? What do you think she wants?”

“No idea. Whatever it is, she clearly believes it’s important enough to kill for.” Jihyo took a deep breath. “Mina was always observant. Scarily observant. When she was sure of something, then she was usually right. If she is digging for something, something is there—“

Jeongyeon shifted impatiently. “If you’re so worried, why didn’t you just ID her, put up with the blowback, and then when we arrest her she could tell us about her plans and theories herself, huh?”

“So everyone could stop trusting me and cut me out of the loop? I wasn’t even sure I wanted to tell you! Look how you just acted.” Jihyo said. Jeongyeon grimaced, conceding the point. “And you remember how thorough the background check was for our bureau? How they requested a list of acquaintances? I didn’t mention Mina—we had split by the time—and I never could have.”

“Wow, Park Jihyo. Are you fucking kidding?”

“They won’t want to trust me. Ever. For the rest of my career, if they still let me have one. Once I’ve really verified it is her, I’ll work out what to do.”

“I hate to break it to you, but you already sound convinced! Is it her or not?”

“I… I can hardly believe she’s alive! I could’ve been hallucinating, right? I need information. And time. And I already told the lieutenant I didn’t know who the suspect was. What am I supposed to do, go back to him now?”

“Think, Jihyo. While you’re waiting for the perfect moment, what if she kills someone else? Wouldn’t it be better if we take her into custody ASAP?” Jeongyeon asked. Suddenly, the solution came to her and she groaned out loud. Leave it to Jihyo to charge around and not take one fucking second to strategize. “How about you tip VCU off in a way where they can’t connect it to you? Can you do that? Do you want me to do it for you? Just give me the word.”

Jihyo gave her a pained look, and after a long moment said, “You’re right, taking her into custody is the number one priority—”

“Oh good. I was wondering if you were that badly whipped for her,” Jeongyeon scoffed. “You really know how to pick them.”

Jihyo, reddening, ignored her. “I’ll do it. I’ll tip them anonymously, but I really do need a little time to sort it all out, okay?”

“Again, what if she kills someone else—”

“I don’t think she’ll make a move, at least not right away. She’s waiting, lying in wait for something, someone.”

“Ugh, if you say so,” Jeongyeon said, straightening and rolling her shoulders. “It still sounds like a bad idea to me. I really hope I’m wrong.”

They exited the restroom, and a tech, seeing them, scurried over and presented Jihyo with a thumb drive.

“There you are! Lieutenant Lee asked me to give you this copy. It’s clean, no viruses.”

“Great, thanks,” Jihyo replied. She turned it over in her hand. “What’s in it?”

The tech shrugged. “I wasn’t going to peek with the lieutenant looking over my shoulder. I’m glad I didn’t anyway: I won’t have to sign the indoctrination list.”

“There’s an indoctrination list?” Jihyo and Jeongyeon glanced at each other. Neither of them ever had to sign one before. All investigations were naturally documented and kept quiet, but then there were the ones that were so hot, the information was tightly controlled to those with a need to know: those with their names on that list. 

“Yeah, while I was looking for you, I heard the Prosecutors’ Office called and ordered us to seal everything. I guess the lieutenant will have it ready for you.”

“Right. Thanks again.”

When they were alone, Jeongyeon raised her eyebrows at Jihyo. “You can’t sign, can you?”

“No, not at all. Not unless the lieutenant wants to admit he gave these files to someone who is not yet officially cleared of suspicion, even if that person is me,” Jihyo said. She then checked her phone. “Also, the bureau chief said I should take a couple of days off... Will you be okay?”

“Yeah, I’ll figure it out.” Jeongyeon hesitated, then said, “I’ve never seen the prosecutors direct criminal investigations this early, have you? Aren’t they usually too busy with the bigger, trickier cases? And now they’re sealing it too? I felt we could’ve handled this ourselves.” 

“Yep. Prosecution usually just signs off on our legwork.” Jihyo was fiddling with the thumb drive, attention definitely not here. “I’m going to go before Lieutenant Lee changes his mind. Hold the fort, okay?”

Jeongyeon nodded, then poked Jihyo’s shoulder, hard. “Three meals and soju.”

“Ow! What the hell?!”

“For everything you’re putting me through, you owe me three meals and soju—at least!” 

“Yeah, yeah.”

***

Jihyo woke up the next day to a hangover and three missed calls. Two missed calls from Nayeon—she was up that early?—and one missed call from the bureau chief, Hwang Haein, her old boss’s boss. _Crap_.

Jihyo texted Nayeon that she’ll call her back, chugged some of the water from her nightstand, cleared her throat, went to the bathroom, cleared her throat some more, then deciding she’d stalled enough, she called the office and waited for the bureau chief’s assistant to patch her through.

“Detective Park, I appreciate your returning my call.” Chief Hwang’s voice was smooth, educated, and at the moment very dry. She had over two decades of experience and a doctorate in Police Administration from Seoul National University, and was not at all shy about it. 

“Good morning, ma’am.” Jihyo couldn’t think of anything else she should say. _“I thought it was my day off”_ was definitely not an option. 

“Let us review the present state of affairs. Earlier this morning, the Violent Crime Unit submitted their report to the Prosecutors’ Office, recommending that you be cleared of suspicion, and I asked the prosecutor who was assigned to review it speedily so I may reinstate one of my best officers.” The bureau chief paused meaningfully. Jihyo’s felt her heart swell. “And I believe your grandfather had lent his substantial weight as well.”

 _Oh._ Jihyo exhaled quietly. She was surprised he had said anything. The ex-police commissioner, now retired from public service, had been living a quiet life as far as Jihyo knew, spending most of it watching TV, and the rest of it in restaurants, chatting up the owners before returning to his modest apartment before dusk. When Jihyo had arrived last night, giving him the vaguest possible summary of events, he asked little; he simply packed her away to the bedroom he reserved for her along with leftovers from the bulgogijip down the street and a couple bottles of soju. She hadn’t told him about the prosecutors and their early involvement, but somehow he must have known. 

The bureau chief continued: “Then, the prosecutor informed me that the National Security Bureau wishes to reassess your security clearance themselves—“

“What security clearance?” Jihyo asked, puzzled. Her ID never took her anywhere that interesting. Um, did the bureau chief just sputter?

“Detective Park, if I may make some observations?”

“Uh. Yes, ma’am.”

“You are in a rarefied position simply as an officer of my bureau: you are cleared to interact with foreigners in various positions of authority; to access certain classified databases of both national and international importance; to visit other jurisdictions or states to lend your particular expertise—”

“But only in connection with whatever cases I’m working on,” Jihyo protested. “And I’m either under supervision, or have to fill out a ton of paperwork just to get what I need. I can’t exactly wave my hand and ghost in and out.”

“That is essentially what I told the prosecutor and the National Security Bureau’s chief when I last spoke with them. It is true that you do have access to more sensitive information than your average officer, but we, within our bureau, had thoroughly vetted you ourselves. You may recall the interview process.”

Jihyo had tried to forget it. The background check included a questionnaire with hundreds of questions about her personal and professional history, including the names and contact information of her family, friends and other associates. Then, they went around interviewing them all, even Jihyo’s mother and younger sisters, who had moved to Canada after their father, a patrol officer, was killed during a high-speed chase. 

_Or, especially my family,_ Jihyo realized, understanding that foreign pressure was perfectly possible from that angle—not that the Canadians bothered anybody. Jihyo then thought guiltily about having left Mina’s name off that list. Only Nayeon knew about Mina, and she definitely wouldn’t have said anything.

“So I shall make a reassessment now. Please note this conversation will be recorded henceforth.”

Jihyo froze. “Ok,” she managed. 

“This is Hwang Haein, Ph.D, Chief of the Foreign Affairs Bureau. Please state your name and title for the record.”

“…Park Jihyo, Senior Detective. Of the Foreign Affairs Bureau.”

“Detective Park, have you or do you intend to distribute classified or otherwise protected information to foreign nationals?”

“No,” Jihyo replied, trying to match the other woman’s even tone. 

“Have you, or do you intend to ever commit, or conspire to commit, any act betraying your allegiance to our country?”

“No.”

“Did you conspire to, or assist in, taking the life of Jang Sungho?”

“No.”

“This conversation is no longer being recorded. Well, then. Consider yourself cleared.”

“Uh…”

“Did you want another several months long process before returning to your duties?”

“No?”

“Correct answer, because neither did I. I have this, I have the Violent Crimes Unit report in my possession, I have the report on your background, and I have records of the various cases you had worked on over the years, displaying a stellar level of dedication to our work—although, honestly, stop sleeping at your desk, young lady, it is terrible for your skin—and all of this should be enough even if the Ministries become involved, don’t you agree?”

The woman was only looking for one response. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Unfortunately, I do need to allow you some additional time off so this situation may be viewed in the most favorable light…Never mind the personal leave. I shall place you on paid administrative leave for an entire week. Do absolutely nothing work related until the week after. Any questions? No? Great. Now I can tell the National Security Bureau to stop rooting around, disturbing my office and personnel. Secretive cretins.”

Jihyo was pretty sure she wasn’t supposed to hear that last muttered phrase. “...Thank you. I do have a question, actually.”

“Yes?”

“About Mr. Jang—“ 

“Ah that is right; I had completely neglected to mention the funeral. I will have my assistant send you the details about the location of the funeral hall. The family had made the usual arrangements. You can visit today or tomorrow, then a family-only procession to the crematorium on the third day. If you can make it, I and several members of our bureau are visiting tomorrow after the day shift. His loss is a great one for us all.”

Jihyo was silent for a moment. The bureau chief answered a question she wasn’t asking, and the answer she did give stopped Jihyo in her tracks. Jang Sungho’s loss is a great one? _Really?_ The copy of the thumb drive the tech gave her did have ample evidence of Jang’s crimes, including photos of his assistant’s body—still in her memory even after last night’s binge drinking—so Mina told the truth. She really told the damn truth. 

So what did it mean if the bureau chief still thought well of Jang? 

Was Chief Hwang pretending the evidence didn’t exist? She could’ve thought the scandal would be too devastating and hoped it would all be buried with Jang’s death. The evidence should’ve all been in the VCU report…right?

“Detective?”

“Sorry, I’m just tired…Yes, I’ll visit with you tomorrow.” _Bet on it._ “Thank you again, ma’am.” 

“No need to thank me. Please give my best to your esteemed grandfather for me.”

Jihyo winced, but simply said, “I will.”

As Jihyo put down the phone, she heard a knock on her bedroom door. 

“Come in, grandpa.”

Her grandfather, a tall and wiry man with salt and pepper hair, poked his head in diffidently. “Was that Haein?”

“She sends her best. How did you know?”

“I told her not to bother you, so she did,” he grumbled. “And speaking of bother, your spy friend scared me half to death by letting herself into my kitchen. I saw her looking through the fridge and I nearly threw a fire extinguisher at her.”

 _Who? Oh hell._ “Nayeon?”

“Did you give her the key code or did she hack into it because if this is a security breach then—”

Jihyo sighed, massaging her forehead. “You know she can barely remember how to use our toaster, and I gave her the code for emergencies only.”

From behind her grandfather came a penetrating voice: “This is an emergency!” and a moment later, “Your toaster is stupid!”

Jihyo sighed again. “I’ll be right out.”

***

Someone had left a bouquet of camellias on Sana’s desk, and she stood gazing at them, softly shaking her head from side to side. 

They were in full bloom, the large white and pink petals splayed, bright against the darkened cedar, perfuming the office with their sweet scent. “Their beauty doesn’t compare to you,” the card read. Sana turned it over. _No signature, again._

“May I put this in a vase for you, ma’am?” Her assistant asked, anticipating her response by walking towards a storage closet. 

“Yes, could you please?” Sana said, her chirpy voice belying her thoughts. She picked up the office phone’s handset and called a number not listed in any directory. 

The woman on the other end cleared her throat, voice husky as if she had just woken up. “Yeah?”

“More flowers appeared on my desk, honey. Are you sure you’re not the one sending them to me?”

After the words were out of her mouth, Sana realized she was flirting. Sana smiled to herself. She didn’t mean anything by it—Momo and her had drawn the lines between them long, long ago—but old habits lingered, and it was too fun to twist Momo’s tail.

“Positive.” Momo went silent. The creaking in the background suggested that she was indeed in bed and pushing herself up. “Is this a new admirer?”

“Same one, I think. Camellias, corny message, no signature. About as nice as the ones you used to send me.”

“Mm.” 

Sana could hear the pout in the other’s voice. _Too cute._

Momo’s usual expression, Sana recalled, held a placid smile and a steady gleam in her eyes. Her face had been framed by a short black bob, but Sana knew her hair changed every so often, for work or whim, about as often as Sana’s, whose auburn waves now fell well below her shoulders. 

Sana heard the shift in Momo’s breathing—the other woman was stretching herself awake as part of her routine. Momo had let her watch many times before, let her see the strength, the grace, the control infused into every incremental movement, the purity of her focus; the way her muscles, from her shoulders to her abs to her calves, just rippled under her clothes—

“I was wondering,” Sana began.

“Hm?”

“Do you still wear those adorable pink pajamas your mom gave you?” Sana asked. She felt her smile widen to a grin.

Momo sighed. “No. The sleeves are too long so they get in the way.”

“Of sleeping?”

“Of fighting. Or running when I need to,” Momo said. “Is there anything else you want to talk about? If not—“

“Hold on, I have a fabulous idea! How about I send you a pair more your size, hm?”

“How about ‘No’?”

“I’ll send it to your next location. Do you prefer silk or a cotton blend? Same shade of pink, or—”

“Can I stop you?”

“Oooh, I know! I can send you a bunch of different ones—”

“I’m going to go now—”

“Wait!” Sana exclaimed, a giggle escaping her. She sat down, opened her laptop, and tapped a few times on its surface. “I just uploaded a photo on the secure site. Take a look and then I’ll let you go.”

Momo let out a huff that Sana took as a laugh. “One second.” Now the background was filled with metallic sounds. Momo’s morning routine included checking the condition of a small stockpile of very illegal weapons. “Is this an image from CCTV? Has to be. Large pixels.”

“Mmhmm,” Sana purred. “It was taken last night. Guess who?” Sana waited. There it was, a gasp. 

“That’s… not possible!”

“I’d thought so too, but it’s real.”

“Where—?”

“The South Koreans are looking for her in Seoul as we speak; they actually forwarded this shot to us. I’ll send you their information, including the location.”

“Y-yeah, thanks. I’ve got to find her first, talk to her. You didn’t hear anything from her, did you? How did you get this? What else do you have?” 

Sana should’ve realized Momo would get this worked up. “Hey, no, don’t talk to her—”

“What do you mean don’t talk to her?”

“I mean, don’t—“

“And why hasn’t she contacted me? It’s been so long, Sana—”

“Hey!” Sana exclaimed, shocked that Momo broke security. Momo knew better: No names and no revealing details, even now when they were reasonably sure this connection was secure. Sana disconnected the call, switched to another line and called Momo’s secondary satellite phone.

Momo picked up and said, “I’m sorry—” 

“No, it’s me. I’m sorry. I should’ve been serious from the start,” Sana said, taking in a long breath. It really was her own fault, her own dumb mistake. She had gotten carried away, talking like they were still back in the old times, and Momo, following her lead, did too. But now Sana, ostensibly a trade attaché, coordinated intelligence operations from within the Japanese embassy in Seoul, and Momo’s covert ops unit was stationed in the same country soon after, which meant Momo was down her chain of command. All too easy to forget, between the two of them.

“I’ll get a new phone delivered to you. Meanwhile, I do have orders, okay?”

“Okay…”

Sana took a deep breath. “You and your team are to find this subject and place her under around-the-clock surveillance. Do not make contact. Do not engage with or against any of her activities. Report once you identify her location, then report her movements until further notice.” Then, carefully, over Momo’s startled _Eh?_ continued: “Our superiors haven’t decided whether we should treat her as one of ours or not; we’re to keep an eye on her, and keep our distance, until the decision is made.”

“The hell they haven’t! She was part of my outfit. Of course she’s with us.” Momo exhaled. “You should have told me the second you knew. What if she needs something?”

“Please don’t start. She hasn’t made contact with us either during all this time, so she isn’t going to be looking for us now,” Sana said, her voice firming. “She’s alive and she’s doing fine, hang onto that. She’s been evading the South Koreans easily enough until now, and no, we couldn’t reach you last night—you were still coming back from your trip.” Osaka to Seoul was a two hour flight, but not when Momo had to take the long way around.

Momo huffed. “Why are the Koreans after her anyway?”

“Oh, here’s another order: don’t interfere with their investigation. They want her for murder and are asking us to identify her. As far as they know, we’re looking into it.”

“Murder?!”

“Yes.”

“That can’t be right.”

Sana shook her head, then remembered Momo wouldn’t see it. “They have a witness and the composite sketch they came up with is really, surprisingly good.”

“No, I mean, I don’t doubt she got involved with something—I can’t believe she’d hide away for a few years without a reason—but she let herself get caught? She was the sharpest officer I had ever trained with. Sometimes even beating me!” More metal clattered in the background, then the sound of a zipper sharply pulled. “When can I contact her?”

“I don’t know. Maybe soon, maybe never. You understand, we may need to be able to deny our involvement and we can’t do that if you are caught around her.” Sana, her voice softening, continued: “I understand this will be really difficult for you, and it’s been…hard for me to wrap my head around all of it. But keep some distance. Brief your people and don’t involve yourself directly if you don’t have to, okay?”

Silence. Sana was about to repeat herself when Momo replied, “Acknowledged. Can I go now?”

A whine had edged into Momo’s voice. Sana almost cooed over it, but stopped herself in time, instead saying, “Yes. Talk soon, okay? I don’t always want to be the one calling.”

A moment passed, and then a murmured reply: “Don’t worry.”

The call disconnected and Sana gently placed the phone back on its hook. 

Her laptop chimed with more messages, but her attention was drawn to the vase her assistant had picked out and left on her desk. Sana could swear she had toppled over this same one a few weeks ago; its white, subtly speckled ceramic pieces had scattered all over the floor. Now, the pieces had been returned, carefully joined together with what looked like melted gold. Some pieces were missing so the stems of the camellias were visible within, right above where they had sunk into the water. 

Sana pushed away the lingering question about the flower sender’s identity: if they had wanted her to know, she’d find out soon enough. She did feel like the vase shouldn’t be on her desk, so close to her elbow, where she could risk breaking it a second time. She called for her assistant to put the arrangement on a side table so she could gaze at it all safely, from a distance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Sorry I took so long 😭 I hope it was worth the wait!  
> I'd like to aim for monthly updates. Let's see what happens  
> Shoutout to my patient beta readers! ❤️
> 
> Since the ao3 messaging system is nonexistent, if you want to dm on other platforms feel free:  
> [Tumblr](https://cristhetropicalfruit.tumblr.com/) \- it's a langblr but i've been too busy to really use it that way  
> [Twitter](https://twitter.com/chaeamo_mivida) \- made this recently just to follow misayeon and i have a feeling it's going to suck me in...
> 
> Also, a disclaimer: This entire work is fiction. I don't know zilch from nada about intelligence agencies; I just read a lot of thrillers. I'm definitely butchering the procedures for the knpa too. (Official gov docs in a language i barely understand? I tried but no thank you.)  
> Just wanna put that out there esp. in case certain entities are interested 😉
> 
> Thank you for reading 😊 I hope you have a nice day


	3. The Devil on My Shoulder

Mina woke up at two in the morning, shaking.

_... smell of acrid smoke... the screeching of bending metal... the rising bile in my throat... faces frozen in panic... faces drenched in blood... the screaming, my god the screaming..._

Mina took several deep breaths, hardening herself with each one. She turned under her sheets some more before sitting up, tying back her hair, and heading to the living room. Her laptop was charging on the coffee table and she took a seat on the leather sofa and loaded her current game. Soon, her character was deep in the mines, slaying dozens of undead with her sword. They cornered her, and she kept swinging, but they pushed and pushed and soon she was plummeting off a hidden cliff. The game ended and she found herself in the mines again.

Hours later, Mina closed the laptop and placed it on the table, sighing. She wanted to play more, to keep distracted from her restless mind, but the cramp in her neck warned her she’d been still for too long.

She stood and stretched and reviewed her plans again. Her vision remained clear and true. The targets, however, insisted on moving, hiding, taking new forms. Too much depended on planning, vigilance, and—she hated to admit—luck. Her thoughts circled around last night’s events. Her decision to keep Jihyo alive had seemed so right at the moment, but now, in this quiet hour, she couldn’t help but second-guess herself, wondering if her emotions warped her sight, thinking of contingencies in case she was wrong. Did she depend too much on her memories of how Jihyo used to be? The years could change someone beyond recognition. Mina was reminded of that whenever she looked in the mirror.

She felt a prickling in her scalp and stood still, suddenly alert. Something was different, she was sure of it. She took in the white walls and pine framing surrounding her.

The traditional-style house—a hanok, the locals called it—was said to have been the home of a baron during the Joseon era. The last owner had it renovated so it finally had the comforts of modern living, including plumbing, electricity, heat and furnishings. Yet, much of the original wood and stone remained, both inside and out, making her feel like she was out in the country and not at all in the middle of Seoul. Sometimes the beams that held up the roof would groan with the changes in weather and temperature, and the wind would let itself into the central courtyard, rattling the branches of the young trees and battering the elaborately carved doors.

Mina listened to the familiar sounds for a moment before pushing past them to hear something else: the wooden floorboards creaked under a heavy boot.

She swiftly tiptoed towards the wall dividing the living room and the hallway, her bare feet silent as she chose her steps carefully. She flattened herself against the wall, about two meters to the left of the opening. Her right hand slipped to her waist, under her white blouse, to free the gun from its holster. Her left hovered over her black leggings to the space above her thigh—where a knife would’ve been if they weren’t all uselessly on her nightstand—before clenching into a fist.

The footsteps continued slowly, then paused. On the other side of the wall, Mina held her breath. Then, a stranger in a gray suit went through the opening and turned his head to the right, a sneer on his broad-featured face as Mina pointed the gun at him.

“Welcome,” Mina said, a sharp smile sliding onto her face.

“You shoot, the city hear,” the man growled in a heavily accented Korean. His hands were empty, but he towered over her, maybe two meters tall. Bulges under his suit jacket suggested he was armed.

Mina hesitated and the man moved fast, much faster than she expected: he took one large step to bridge the gap between them and before Mina could squeeze the trigger, he slapped the gun aside. She barely held on, scrambling to recover her grip and her aim. He grabbed the barrel of the gun with his left hand and her right wrist with the other.

Mina held onto the weapon with both hands, tightening her fingers around it desperately, feeling his strength as he pulled and twisted and turned so Mina’s back was slammed against the wall.

Breathing hard, Mina feigned a kick to his crotch. He jerked his hips back instinctively, but the move brought his head forward, putting him in reach. With her left hand, she made a fist and jabbed him in the throat.

She felt the cartilage bend under her knuckle. If the man has a thinner neck, she would have crumpled his carotid and his life might’ve ended there.

Instead, he merely gasped in pain. He pulled the gun from her remaining hand as he staggered back. Mina lurched forward and jabbed with her right. He blocked with his left and swung down with his other hand, intent on smashing in her head with the gun’s weight. Mina jerked to the side. Her left shoulder exploded in pain and she held back a scream.

Wincing, she moved in for another strike, but then glimpsed something shiny under his jacket and dove for that instead. She pulled out a long thin knife with a black and silver handle. His eyes widened as she slipped it past his guard and between his ribs, twisting the blade sharply once it went through him, a sigh escaping her lips.

She let go of the handle and watched him tumble to the floor, head crashing into the coffee table on the way down.

A pause. She took in several breaths, glaring at the body, some irrational part of her mind waiting for it to get back up.

She shook her head, found her gun and tucked it back under her shirt. She then looked at the handle of the knife thoughtfully before pulling it from his chest, carefully wiping the blood off using his jacket.

Behind her came a soft voice. “Mina? Are you okay?”

Mina pivoted to face the hallway, knife upraised until she looked up to meet the eyes of her housemate. The willowy Taiwanese woman was just a couple of years younger than her yet seemed, to Mina’s eyes, even younger somehow. The doe-eyed look didn’t help, and neither did the sky blue pajamas with matching slippers.

Mina found herself stepping sideways, blocking the body from view. “It’s okay, Tzuyu. I think he was the only one,” she replied in Korean, steadying her voice. “And yes, I’m fine.” She resisted touching her own shoulder.

Tzuyu nodded acceptance, but calmly walked around Mina to get a closer look at the body. Sometimes her expressions, like now, were too muted to read. A skill required of a legislator’s daughter, Mina mused. What must it have been like to be watched ever since you were a child, raised in a fractious political climate, to have the media and your father’s colleagues evaluate your every move? What was it like to have security guards follow you everywhere, who insisted on what you can and cannot do, who warned of danger from enemies and friends alike? Tzuyu said little when asked about her old life, but Mina could listen to what was left unsaid. No wonder Tzuyu had ran away and tried to find a new life here.

Tzuyu crouched down and examined the man’s face, and Mina didn’t stop her, instead returning to the sofa and placing the knife by her laptop. As she did so, she noticed her hands were trembling. She clasped them together tightly, fingers interlocked. _You won,_ she told herself sternly, _Hold it together._

“A foreigner,” Tzuyu stated, frowning minutely. “Was that knife his?”

Mina nodded. “Beautiful, isn’t it? It’s a sashimi knife. Japanese brand, but I think he picked it up here. He doesn’t look like one of my countrymen.”

“No, he might be Chinese, maybe Taiwanese...” Mina looked on as Tzuyu went through the man’s belongings, carefully avoiding the bloodstain that bloomed on his chest. House keys, car key, a bag of burglary tools, a smaller knife, a wallet with petty cash and an ID card (certainly fake), zip ties, handkerchief and a small unlabeled glass bottle that Tzuyu wisely didn’t open. Tzuyu gestured at the last three items. “These were for me.”

Mina clasped her hands together even more tightly. “I wish I didn’t relieve your security man for the night. He needed a break and I thought I would be enough. This one came too close.”

Tzuyu glanced up at her, a flicker of confusion passing over her face. “But you were enough.”

“Barely.” Mina shook her head. “I just can’t believe they found you so soon. We were here for less than three months.”

Tzuyu fiddled with the collar of her pajama top. “Do you think we should move again?”

Mina raised an eyebrow. The way Tzuyu said that, holding back that something else, reminded Mina of when they first met. Tzuyu had bumped into her while Mina was walking out of her brother’s lounge, and the girl kept apologizing, startled and shy and quick to move out of her way. Mina was ready to wave a dismissive hand, but there was something in Tzuyu’s gaze that Mina had recognized: the look of someone who was also far away from home, a loneliness hanging like a cloud over her face; a hunger for something to do, somewhere else to belong.

“Do you?” Mina asked, leaning back. She had a feeling she knew Tzuyu’s answer, but she might as well be certain.

“I... I like it here. I stick out less than usual.”

Tzuyu’s height and foreign features kept giving her away. Maybe Tzuyu wouldn’t be safe anywhere—at the thought, Mina’s jaw set—but here, where many foreigners came to enjoy the district’s historic charm, they could at least be comfortable and still be in Seoul. “Let’s stay then. I’ll call Jay. We’ll upgrade our contract with him, get a larger security detail, and he can send a cleaner and someone to see what went wrong with the alarm system too. How does that sound?” Tzuyu nodded.

Mina made the call, speaking with coded words that only they knew. It was always supposed to be the four of them: Mina, Tzuyu, Mina’s older brother Kai, and Jay, a Korean-American who’d been Kai’s right hand man. Jay ran his own slew of businesses now, both legitimate and not, giving Mina and Tzuyu free services or steep discounts, treating them as if they were the little sisters he never had. And Kai... the nightmare that woke Mina up this morning resurfaced and she pushed it back down immediately.

She put down the phone and turned to Tzuyu. “Lucky for us, it’s nearly impossible to get firearms into this country. If he was more prepared, if I was a little slower, if he brought someone else, he could have...you could have...” Mina pressed her lips closed. She thought she might have the shakes again and braced herself against it.

Tzuyu came around to sit close beside her and tilted her head. “Mina... You do this every time. With another guard or two, we'll be okay, won't we? And even if someone does get near me, they’ll be in for a surprise from all the training we’ve been doing.”

Mina forced herself to exhale, and as she did so a smile tugged at her lips. Tzuyu was coming into her own so quickly.

“Are you still going to be out all day today?” Tzuyu asked.

In reply, Mina gave a half-shrug, careful not to move the injured shoulder. She’d ice it as soon as the security arrived. “I’d rather stay right here.”

“But will you?”

Mina shook her head. Tzuyu already did her part with some of the research for the next operation and so it’s Mina’s turn. Now’s not the time to change the plan.

She wondered if Tzuyu would ask her to rest for once, but Tzuyu just nodded slightly and said nothing, staring at the body before them.

Silence followed as they both became lost in thought. Mina looked at her laptop, feeling the pull of the fantasy world within, but then she shifted her gaze to the knife instead. She hesitated, then she took it with one hand and tossed it up, giving it a slow, oblique spin. Tzuyu’s eyes widened as the knife tumbled in front of her. She plucked it out of the air, then nearly dropped it, having misjudged its weight.

Mina beamed and she gave Tzuyu an approving nod. “Let’s try that again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! 
> 
> One section this time around. Sorry y'all.   
> I think it looks okay as is, but I really had two others that just needed to be developed a lot more. Then I got a new job--pesky adulting--and then I got sucked into stan twitter, and then... idk 😶 ...
> 
> I'll figure something out. Please continue to anticipate delays 🙃
> 
> _Anyway._
> 
> Mina and Tzuyu are here! Finally!  
> And a short appearance by the one and only Jay Park.
> 
> Thanks for reading 🙂


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